


It's You that I've Been Waiting to Find

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 8,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: Short (less than 1000 words) stories of Ashlyn and Ali
Relationships: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger
Kudos: 28





	1. Playing On My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Some fic was originally posted as individual pieces. Sorry for the reposts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don't think that my love is gone  
>  It's all up in your head now  
> Don't think that my love is gone  
> It's all up in your head now_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Started listening to "Jungle" and tbh one of my fave songs that they have is Casio and the opening line is really nice (angsty too lmao 👀) "Casio, playing on my heart just like a Casio Breaking it apart so you can let it go Wait another year that's not original or cynical"_

_Fast-forward to the end.  
_

_They lose._

—

She doesn’t make it.

The roster comes out and Ash turns off her phone, already knowing what it will say.

It’s been a week now since the first notifications had gone out. A week since Ali had called with her own excited news.

Hers never made a sound.

She’s alone in the city she’s made her home and her dreams have passed her by. And what does it matter anymore if she has a beer with dinner, a bourbon or two with her empty bed, a swig of the wine left over from Ali’s last visit with breakfast to chase off the headache she knows will come anyway.

The truth is, it doesn’t.

Nothing does.

Not anymore.

—

There are arguments. Long ones and short ones. In person, over the phone, in texts and looks and pointed swelling silences.

In the end, Ashlyn breaks her own heart just to force the woman she loves to let her go.

“I’m not coming back,” she says coolly to the purposely, purposefully blank face across from her in the place they used to call their own, the brunette’s apartment in the city. And when Ali tries to speak, tries to talk her out of this path that can only end in darkness, the blonde draws herself up big, steels her self, and delivers the final, final blow.

It lands true.

And it doesn’t matter what the words were.

What matters is that it worked.

What matters is that Ali hadn’t said a word when she walked away, hadn’t fought the dissolution of their shared life into two broken pieces.

This, Ashlyn nods to herself as she walks away, this is something she’s always been good at.

The breaking.

—

_Pause._

_Stop._

_Eject._

_Turn the tape over._

_Play again._

—

She’s dreaming.

She knows she is.

Dreaming of gold. Fine enough, soft enough to touch, to run her fingers through. Silken like the gentlest of fabrics against her fingertips, weightless.

And when she wakes she finds the dream come true, the golden-hued head on the bed next to her, her fingers tangled in the long hair as soft brown eyes watch her.

“Hey,” Ali whispers, croaks, her throat dry as sandpaper, groggy with pain and the last sickly-sweet feel of anesthetic still heavy in her limbs.

“Careful,” Ash says softly, and she can see, there on the edges of her vision, a leg that must be her own. Propped up near the end of the bed, thick with bandages. And when she thinks about it hard enough, the wiggle of her toes.

“You’re going to be okay,” the blonde continues, her voice tentative, but Ali cherishes the familiar sound in this unfamiliar room. A lifeline, and right now she doesn’t care if the sea is full with the wreckage of their past.

Ashlyn is her beacon, her hope.

And she grabs on with both hands.

—

There are encouraging phone calls, and stupid pictures to make her laugh sent by text. Long Skypes every night in bed, and more often than not, Ali wakes to a dim screen, Ashlyn snoring on the other end.

The days are full of the pain of healing, and the night, the hard work of rebuilding. And Ali discovers something, something important about herself, about them.

The love is still there.

The love has always been there.

It’s the forgiveness that takes a while.

But it’s worth it.

They decide together, the love is worth it.

—

_Rewind to the beginning._

_This time they win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Jungle," Casio


	2. The Paper Called for Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So what's that song you used to sing me  
>  What's that dance we used to do  
> Is this house quiet or just empty  
> Do you hear the silence as I, as I do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Krashlyn and the NWSL final_

Ali tells her not to come. 

That’s the argument. The one that has Ashlyn thinking over their relationship, wondering if there’s a future for the two of them.  
  
Because this is big. This is something Ali’s been dreaming about ever since she came home from Germany–winning a league championship with her league team. For her home, all the people who’ve supported her over the years.   
  
This might not be the World Cup or the Olympics, but this is big, and Ali doesn’t want her there. And it hurts–it hurts. 

—–

The hair, it was a long time coming. The last season of shedding away the person she had been for so long.   
  
She’s planting new roots, she’s building herself a new foundation. The hair, the new tattoo, they’re just the external signs of her internal growth, pride in who she is finally becoming.   
  
Her mother runs long fingers through the short, baby-fine wisps at her neck and mourns the long locks.   
  
“You hated the color,” Ash reminds her, but still, her mother frowns, and it isn’t until they’re saying goodbye that she asks the question Ashlyn knows has been on the tip of her tongue all weekend.

“What did Ali say?” 

—–

Costa Rica is beautiful, of course it is. The waves are perfect and weather is what Ash always remembers the priests in her childhood describing Paradise like. 

But when she rolls out of bed and heads down to the kitchen, the wrong brunette is sitting at the island. And as much as she loves Kelley and Bri, neither of them are Ali. Neither of them are the woman she loves, the woman she’s been waiting to spend the rest of her life with. 

Neither of them are the woman she’d wanted to propose to, the night before. The last dinner before the final in Houston, a ring in her pocket and a promise on her lips.   
  
It won’t happen now–not like that, anyway.   
  
But if there’s anything that this trip has convinced her of, it’s that Ali is the one for her.   
  
It will happen. 

It will.

—–

Ashlyn watches from Florida. 

She wants to be there. She spends the whole day before, the night, even the morning of fighting the urge to drive to the airport and get on the first flight she can find to Houston. 

Except–except Ali asked her not to come. 

Instead, she sends out the most obvious tweet in their entire relationship, including a picture of a jersey she ordered, intending to use after the Olympics, to celebrate Ali during the Gold Medal victory tour. And she spends the day counting down, until she’s pacing the floor at Alex’s house, just waiting for the game to start. 

And when it does, she pulls the box out of her pocket, fidgeting with it as she watches the love of her life fight for her dream. 

—–

“We should have gone,” Kyle says on the other end of the line, and even though she agrees with him, she doesn’t say it. 

“She asked us not to,” Ash reminds him. “Told us, really. She needed to focus.”   
  
And the hurt, now, is gone. Enough that when she says the words, she believes them. When she thinks about Ali asking them to stay away, she knows that it was for the best, that it was what Ali needed.   
  
“She’s going to be okay, Kyle,” she reminds the man who will be her brother-in-law one day. “She’s a Krieger, she always bounces back”

Maybe it’s a little quieter than normal, but he laughs at that.   
  
“She did learn from the best,” Kyle teases back, and Ash feels the warmth of knowing that everything will be okay.  
  
—–

In the end, the waiting doesn’t matter.

The day comes. 

The last beautiful day of autumn before D.C. descends into the grey of November. 

Ash whispers Ali awake with gentle kisses, and then slowly, slowly, undoes her as she grips the sheets with a strong, white-knuckled grip. And there’s a shower, and coffee, and chocolate croissants from the bakery down the street, and Ali’s smile, so big and free and relaxed. 

She waits until evening, wanting the whole day to build, to grow, to this moment. To the moment when she takes Ali on an after-dinner walk along the Potomac, the sun setting and casting it’s beautiful purples and blues and oranges across the water. 

Ash’ll remember the day for the rest of her life, true, but the thing about it that she’ll carry with her into the afterlife? Into whatever comes next? 

It’s the soft sound of the gasp Ali makes when she sees the ring, almost silenced by the yes that comes after, the scream and the tears. 

That’s the breath, Ashlyn knows, where her future lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sun Tomorrow," Ira Wolf


	3. In Case You Didn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm crazy 'bout you  
>  I would be lying if I said  
> That I could live this life without you  
> Even though I don't tell you all the time  
> You had my heart a long, long time ago_

She doesn’t like to get drunk, Ali noticed that early on. A few drinks here or there, but nothing like some of the others on the team. Nothing that left her in dark glasses, moaning against the window of the bus the morning after.

But Ali doesn’t ask. Everyone has the right to their own secrets. Their own demons they’re trying to expel. And she should know, she carries plenty herself.

It’s not until they’re dating, a year or two later, that she finds out why. A night out–her birthday, maybe–when Ali had offered to be the DD, volunteered to take it easy so Ash could lose some of that control she tried so hard to keep. Only to be turned down again, as always.

It was later, in bed, that the light-haired keeper explained.

“Technically, I’m an alcoholic,” Ashlyn said, “recovering, anyway.”

And the whole story comes out then. Chasing after her older brother, sneaking into high school parties even all the way back in middle school. Alcohol everywhere–as recreation, as almost medicinal, as therapy, a way to make it through the day, through the night and all of her family’s burdens.

“It was a coach,” Ash said quietly, “who helped me. Took me aside and told me any future I had, I was drinking away. Dragged me to my first AA meeting, an AL-Anon meeting after that.”

Ashlyn hugged the defender closer, tighter. “I wasn’t an alcoholic, not yet,” she admitted, “not like my parents or my brother. But I was on my way. I was at that AA meeting and I realized that I was looking at everything I’d grown up with, that I was going to end up just like the people there. Just like everything I hated.”

Ali turned in her arms, until they were face-to-face, and kissed her jaw gently. Like she was trying to love away the pain she could hear in her girlfriend’s voice.

“You know I love you, right?” Ali whispered, kissing Ashlyn again when she gave a small nod. “I’m in awe of you, of how strong you are. How hard you’ve worked to get where you are.”

“I do,” she answered, whispering against her girlfriend’s lips. “And I’m careful, Alex, I promise. I’m never going to be like my parents. I’m never going to do that to–”

But Ali cut her off. “Shhh,” the brunette said gently, knowing that she had a choice to make here. 

Except, it wasn’t a choice at all. She loved the younger woman, the woman who was so open with her own mistakes, her own faults. 

Ashlyn deserved honesty from her, the same openness. 

“My brother is a recovering drug addict,” she admitted quietly, and struggled against the burning shame that always accompanied those words. “Kyle, he started with alcohol in high school, and then in college, well, it got worse. He OD’d twice, was homeless for a little while, tried rehab a couple of times. But it took a long time for him to get clean and stay clean.”  
  
And she waited for the inevitable questions, the accusations that always seemed to come after she told someone about Kyle’s struggles, but with Ashlyn, they never did. The rude, invasive, ignorant things people said and wrote off as harmless curiosities, the words that cut deep and took forever to heal. 

“He’s lucky to have you, Alex,” Ash said, and kissed her forehead, and Ali realized that she shouldn’t be surprised at all. “And so am I.”

Ashlyn rolled, until Ali was on top of her, head pressed against her shoulder. “It’s not easy being the one who has to watch someone you love destroy themselves,” she said softly, stroking her girlfriend’s back. “It’s not easy being the one who helps put them back together.”

She kissed Ali sweetly, tenderly. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that, right?”

Later, years later, Ali will look back and remember that night, that moment. And she’ll realize, it was then, tucked into bed with the woman she loved, hearts and souls bare, that she knew she’d found her forever. 

Whatever the world would throw at them, whatever the future held, they had love and each other. Nothing could stand in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Case You Didn't Know," Brett Young


	4. A New World Will Be Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ashlyn watches Ali give birth to their first child_

It was a little like goalkeeping, Ashlyn thought to herself at first. Standing back and waiting for the action to come to you, waiting for something to do. 

Pacing and tracking, watching and watching and watching. Always on edge, always having to be ready for the moment when the play lands at her feet. 

It was a little like goalkeeping, except it wasn’t. 

Not at all. 

Though she did wish she’d thought to bring her gloves.

——

“Come on, baby,” Ashlyn said, watching her partner’s face, the pain etched there. “Breathe, it’s almost over, it’s already easing off.”   
  
The monitor in the corner beeped to signal the end of another contraction, and Ali sunk back against the raised bed with a pained sigh, eyes closed and forehead beaded with sweat. 

“Hey,” the blonde said as she gently kissed Ali’s forehead, “you’re doing so good, honey.” But the other woman laughed in frustrated disbelief.

“You heard what the doctor said last time he was here, Ash, I should be further along by now.” And even though she smiled in thanks as the goalkeeper fed her another chip of ice, rubbing it carefully over Ali’s dry, chapped lips, it was obvious how tired, how exhausted the pregnant woman was. 

“It’s those broad Krieger shoulders,” Ashlyn teased carefully, trying to keep her partner’s mood up, lighthearted, despite the exhaustion and the frustration and the worry they were both feeling. “We Harris babies were all tiny at birth, unlike you and your brother. I’ve seen the pictures, you know,” she continued, “you both look like holiday hams in your first pictures. Pinked up and screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Ali started to groan again, and with a quick look over at the monitor, Ashlyn understood why. 

“It looks like a big one, honey,” she said as she pulled away the cup of ice chips and fit her hand into the pregnant woman’s hand again, starting her mantra over. 

“You can do it, baby,” she whispered into Ali’s ear. “We’ve waited so long and it’s almost time. Just a little longer and our baby will be here. Pink and beautiful, just like her mom.”   
  
She was met with silence, but Ashlyn knew it wasn’t personal, and began coaching the brunette through her breathing again. 

When it was over, Ali’s eyes were wet with tears, her face red from the pain and the struggle not to push too early, to listen to the doctor’s careful words. 

“Hey, hey,” the blonde whispered, pressing their heads together, “we’re almost there, honey. I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so good.” 

But Ali shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, her voice raw, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m too tired, I can’t.”

And Ashlyn understood. It’d been almost twenty-four hours of labor already, after at least a day spent timing contractions, how many minutes between, until at last they were close enough to warrant going to the hospital. A nap here or there, in-between contractions, but otherwise, Ali had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, struggling to bring their baby into the world.   
  
“I know you’re tired, Alex,” she whispered, “but you’re so close. You’re almost there. Just a little while longer, okay?”   
  
Ashlyn wiped away her partner’s tears and looked down to the foot of the bed where their OBGYN was examining Ali again.   
  
“Okay,” he said from between Ali’s legs, “you’re ready to start pushing, Ali. So with the next contraction, you’re going to give me a good, strong push, okay?”   
  
But Ali shook her head, “I can’t, I can’t.”

A nurse appeared nearby, and looked at the two of them sympathetically, nodding at Ashlyn’s look of desperate helplessness.

“I know, honey,” the nurse said, rubbing gently over the pregnant woman’s shoulder, “it’s been a long, hard labor. And it’s almost over.”

“What if,” the nurse started to say, “mom here could give you a little help while you pushed, you think you want to try that?” And she looked over at Ashlyn before nodding with Ali.   
  
“Okay, mom, climb up here behind mama,” the nurse directed, helping Ali to scoot down the bed to make room, to get in position to deliver, “there we go.”

“Hey,” Ashlyn whispered into Ali’s ear, “I’m here, I’ve got you.” And she felt Ali relax, just the slightest, against her.

“Now, mom here is going to support you while you push, she’s going to wrap her arms over yours like so,” the nurse demonstrated, “and lean forward with you when you’re pushing. So all you have to do is focus on baby, okay, mama?”

And Ali nodded. 

It took a minute or two before the next contraction started, and Ashlyn did as the nurse had suggested, pulling Ali back to lean into her again after the contraction passed.   
  
“Good job, Ali,” the doctor encouraged, “I think with the next push we’ll see the head.” 

It took almost an hour more. An hour of pushing and crying out, of crying and playing cheerleader. Of grunts and groans and soft encouraging words. 

But then–

“One more push, Ali, one more push,” the doctor said as Ashlyn felt her partner’s entire body tense with singular focus on the baby who was almost there. 

And then with a sharp cry from the foot of the bed, an exhausted laugh from Ali, it was over.   
  
“A big healthy boy, moms,” the doctor said and held up the red, angry baby, cord still attached, linking him to Ali just a little longer.  
  
“Look what you did,” Ashlyn whispered, already so in love, “baby, look what you did.” 

And Ali panted, exhausted, but the joy in her voice already bigger than anything that had come before.   
  
“He’s beautiful,” she said, laughing and crying all at once, “big Krieger shoulders and all.”


	5. Go to Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Your smiles  
>  Well they make my day  
> You don't know it yet  
> But you're everything_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Alis heartbreak over missing gold (or any medal)_

In the end, Ali realizes, it’s okay.

She’s not the same woman she was in 2011, when losing in Germany threw her entire life into turmoil. When her anger built and built inside of her until she destroyed every good thing she didn’t think she deserved any longer. 

She’s older now, stronger. 

There have been more losses, but there have been so many more wins. More than she ever could have imagined. Ever could have hoped for.

She wanted to be on that field, she wanted the chance to make a difference for her team. But after the match, as she hugs Chris and Alex, as she gives Hope a supportive nod, she knows, this loss she can survive. This loss won’t break her. 

Because she knows–later there will be strong arms around her, silky blonde hair tickling against her neck as Ashlyn whispers in her ear. Later, she knows, she’ll call her brother and laugh all the stories he makes up to get her to smile, and her parents will offer their apologies and she’ll no longer search for hints of hidden disapproval in their words. 

This time, this loss, there’s a plan for after. 

This time, it’s not soccer that defines her, not anymore.

It’s the house that waits for her, sun and surf and slow mornings. It’s the promise that the breeder will call the next time there’s a litter of blues available. 

It’s their rings, safe and sound in their safe deposit box back at home, and the announcement they’ve got all planned out. 

It’s the room just off theirs, the one they haven’t decorated yet. The one she can picture so clearly, gauzy curtains and the ocean breeze. Ashlyn dancing in the morning sun, a little blonde head just peeking up over her shoulder. 

They’ve lost and it hurts, but Ali knows, there are still so many victories that await them. 

She’s not going to waste her time looking back. 

Not anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You," Fisher


	6. A Little Glamour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah girl you're the only one who gets me  
>  I, who could steal all my attention  
> Even after all this time  
> Who loves me so strong  
> Who can put me back together when it all goes wrong_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _You should do a one shot about Ali's animation story_

She still has the box of rocks.

It’s hidden away, up in the guest room closet but it hasn’t held many rocks in years.

Ash knows this, because she found it one day, looking everywhere for the shark snuggle Ali swears must have been lost in the move.

She doesn’t find the snuggle, but what she finds is better.

By far.

The white box, “Property of Alex Krieger–Kyle, No Touching” written across in a hand that only resembles Ali’s in the slightest. Stickers and scratches, the box has been loved for a long time.

It rattles when she brings it down, and there’s a latch but no lock, so when Ash opens it, she’s expecting a collection of stones–little treasures that Ali had collected as a child. And in a way, that’s kind of what she finds when she opens it.

There aren’t many rocks, but there are some. None that look too precious or important. Tucked away in little partitions, a slip of paper for each, the penmanship that Ash recognized as matching the notes on the fridge, the signature on the bottom of their joint mortgage for the Florida house. Dates and places that Ash recalls fondly, remembers well, noted in tiny, near letters.

But there are other things as well. Ticket stubs and match book covers. A dried flower, a snippet of beads from what Ash knows were the necklaces they wore to Pride down in New Orleans one year.

A plane ticket in half and folded to fit, a single earring, a strip of photo booth pictures from a holiday fair in Germany.

And then in the back, a flash of silver.

A ring.

A rock.

And Ash stops breathing.

“If I recall, that box plainly says it belongs to the one and only Alexandra Krieger,” Ali says from behind her, and Ash bobbles the box before catching it smoothly, not an item out of place.

“You know,” the brunette says with a smile, coming closer, until the edge of the box bumps against her chest, “they say that people who go looking for secrets often find them, but sometimes don’t like the ones they find.”

And Ash blushes, apology already forming on her tongue. But Ali takes the box from her with steady hands, plucking the ring out of its little home.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do it first,” she says, playing with the ring as she speaks, and Ash can’t help but watch as she rolls it between her fingers, “but now that you’ve found it, maybe I should just do it myself, force your hand.”

And Ash doesn’t know where it is anymore, but the box is gone, and Ali is pressed up against her, whispering into her neck as she tastes the skin there.

It takes twelve seconds, a full twelve before her brain catches up with her ears, before she can think through the feel of Ali’s tongue on her neck, the scent of Ali so close. But she does, the need and the want cutting through the fog that is her mind right now.

“My bathroom bag,” she gasps out, her body shaking as Ali skims her fingers down her side, “my–your ring–it’s in my bathroom bag. In the closet with our suitcases.”

And Ali pulls back with a sly grin. “Was that so hard,” she asks, and pulls Ash out of the closet.

“Come on, I want to see my rock,” she says, Ash following close behind, “and then we’ve got some business to attend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Only One Who Gets Me," Charles Kelley


	7. Taste Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But when I taste tequila, baby, I still see ya  
>  Cutting up the floor in a sorority t-shirt  
> The same one you wore when we were  
> Sky high in Colorado_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _"Ali, I'm serious" Ashlyn said_

But her girlfriend just smiled and took her hand. 

“Really, honey, it’ll be fine,” Ali said, and started walking up toward the apartment.

But Ashlyn dug in her heels. 

“Your brother showed up for a surprise visit the same week I flew in, Ali. Your brother. Who doesn’t know you’re in a relationship. With a woman.” 

Ash whispered these things furiously, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the other people in Ali’s building. 

“My brother,” Ali said calmly, pulling her girlfriend close, “the recovering drug addict, flew in to celebrate his soberversary. And he absolutely does know I’m in a relationship, and I’m really excited to introduce him to you.” 

She looked Ashlyn in the eye, smiling gently at her. 

“This wasn’t planned, I know, but I’m glad it happened. Because I love you, and I really want Kyle to know you and love you too.”

The blonde gave Ali a put-upon frown and groaned. 

“This means I’m not going to get tequila-Ali this weekend, doesn’t it,” she said, stepping into her girlfriend’s body and resting her chin on Ali’s shoulder.

“Well,” the brunette said with a grin, “at least not until he’s on his way back to the States.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tequila," Dan + Shay


	8. Come Home and Turn Me On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Like a flower waiting to bloom  
>  like a light bulb in a dark room  
> I am sitting here waiting for you _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _As Ali walks out of the bathroom, Ashlyn's eyes are immediately drawn to the white jeans that always hug Ali's legs in all the right places..._

“Al,” Ashlyn called from where she was sitting, waiting, on the bed, “we’re gonna be late for this thing. Hurry up.” 

But her girlfriend just threw a towel at her from the doorway of the master-bath and went back to applying her eyeliner. 

It was a few more minutes before Ali came out of the bathroom, but when she did, Ashlyn was speechless. 

“Babe,” she choked out, almost swallowing her tongue, and the brunette looked over with a sexy, sly smile. 

She knew exactly what had left her girlfriend speechless. These jeans–pristine white–fit her like a second skin. Hugged her ass, caressed the lines of her legs. These jeans, seeing Ash’s reaction, god, it made her feel powerful. Indestructible. 

Made her feel like she could conquer the world. 

Before she knew it, Ash was off the bed, standing right before her. Plain black t-shirt flat against her firm stomach, fitted camouflage cargo pants tucked into a pair of black leather combat boots, well-worn and loved. 

It sent a thrill of desire right through her. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Ashlyn said, skimming her hands down Ali’s back, along the silky material of her shirt, and settling them over her ass. Pulling her girlfriend closer as she massaged the firm muscles there, gripping Ali’s ass and kissing her deeply, slipping her tongue into the other woman’s mouth and swallowing the moan that Ali couldn’t quite keep quiet. 

“You know,” the defender said after a few minutes, pulling her head back and taking a breath, “we’re going to be late.” 

But Ash just smiled, and lifted her up, Ali wrapping her legs around her girlfriend’s waist. 

“Oh, well,” she said with a laugh, and kissed her again. 

They never made it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Turn Me on," Nina Simone


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'll stand by you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _"Since the first time i saw you, i knew i was in love," krashlyn_

“Since the first time I saw you, I knew I was in love,” Ali says. 

They were sitting in the bath, Ashlyn leaning back into her girlfriend’s body, letting the warm, gentle water soothe away the heartache of the day. 

Ali drags a soft washcloth up the blonde’s long, strong leg, dallying over the thin silver scars at her knee, the little constellation of moles just over her thigh. And she smiles in the nape of Ashlyn’s neck when the goalkeeper shudders and sighs. 

“The first time,” Ash asks, remembering that day, that moment. Turning a corner too quickly, hands full of camp info and her over-stuffed bag of gear, running into the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen. That brilliant smile, the gentle laugh. And Ashlyn just standing above her, watching in disbelief at their belongings strewn over the hotel hallway. 

It was the soft, gentle slur that had captured her own heart, Ashlyn recalls. The slightest of speech impediments. The little fault that made this stranger’s perfection complete. Believable. 

“The very first time,” Ali confirms. “Standing there in that hallway, looking down at me. I felt something I’d never felt before, a lightning bolt, right through my heart. And nothing was the same after that.”

She draws wide circles on Ashlyn’s belly with the washcloth, and the blonde hums contentedly, waiting for her love to finish her story. 

“It took me a long time to deal with it, to accept it,” Ali continues, and Ash nods, shifting to tilt her head, to look up into her girlfriend’s eyes. She remembers. The years of wanting, of waiting. She remembers the confusion, Ali trying to figure her heart out. 

“But even if I didn’t know what to do about it,” the defender whispers into her girlfriend’s neck, “I knew. I knew you were the end for me.”

And the day might have been rough. Full of terrible things happening in the world. Of hate and anger and fear. 

But here, in their bathroom, there was peace. And there was love. 

And tomorrow?

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll Stand By You," The Pretenders


	10. Close the Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I sat to read  
>  A story of kindness  
> Where even just one kiss  
> Can change how we read this_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali and ash after pride vs spirit game_

They’re sweaty and dirty and tired, but they’re smiling as the whistle blows and the game ends. 

Ash jogs toward the center of the field, tossing her gloves onto the grass behind her as Ali walks up to her. 

She wraps her girlfriend up in a tight hug, nuzzling her nose along the strong line of the brunette’s collarbone. 

“Good game,” Ali says with a pleased grin, “a clean-sheet. I’m very proud.”

“Almost wasn’t,” Ash admits, “Your team has this fancy-pants defender on it now, keeps sending shots into my box thinking she’s a forward.”

And Ali laughs. “I almost had you on that last one,” she teases, and the blonde gives her a loving scowl before conceding.

“Yeah,” Ashlyn says, “you almost did. You played great tonight. The way you shut down Morgan, hell, the way you kept us from even looking at the goal? You’ll get player of the match for sure.”

Ali hooks her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, the time for caring who saw, who knew, long behind them. 

“Pretty sure that save off of Dunn’s head will get you another Save of the Week nomination,” she tells Ash earnestly, stepping even closer into the taller woman’s body. 

“Well, aren’t we just a power couple,” Ashlyn jokes, hand sliding down the damp fabric of Ali’s jersey, along her girlfriend’s ticklish ribs. 

But Ali manages to bite back the gasp, the laugh. 

“Aren’t we just,” she whispers, looking up at Ash’s lips, the bead of sweat sitting there just begging to be licked away. 

“I–” she starts, but in an instant any thoughts she had are washed away with the wave of icy water poured over them by their laughing teammates. 

“Coach says maybe you two should hit the showers before you turn soccer into a X-game,” Alex says with a smirk. 

“A triple X-game,” Crystal adds, standing right alongside her national team teammate, and not bothering to hide her laughter. 

Ashlyn brushes the water from her face and looks at her girlfriend, and Ali knows–”We’re going to kill you,” she shouts, and sets off after Alex, Ash just at her heels. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Close the Distance," Go Radio


	11. Still New Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali and Ashlyn in a birthing class._

“Come here often,” she hears a man say from behind her at the snack table, and Ali stiffens. She turns, in absolute disbelief that she’s going to have to smack some asshole in the middle of a community center Lamaze class.

But the man’s smile is gentle and amused, and there’s a very pregnant woman at his side, rolling her eyes.

“Ignore my husband,” the woman says, and holds out a hand, “all this fresh air is getting to his head. We don’t get out much. Hi, I’m Grace and this is my idiot.”

“Bruce,” he says, still smiling, and Ali feels her annoyance slip away. “You here alone? Feel free to ask us any questions, this is our third rodeo.”

Ali looks up at them, intrigued. “Third?” she asks.

Grace cuts in, “To be honest, having a baby is kind of like riding a bike. But at this point we’ll take any excuse to get out of the house for a night.”

And the three of them are laughing together like old friends by the time Ash comes running in, hair wet and dripping down her t-shirt.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she says, and leans down to kiss her partner, and laughing when Ali scrunches up her nose. The topic of whether or not a woman in her seventh month of pregnancy can be considered “gorgeous” or not is a frequent debate at their household lately.

“Okay, okay,” a tall, thin woman calls from the front of the room, “let’s get started everyone. Moms, have a seat on the mats; partners, get settled so they can use your body for support, okay?”

—–

The room isn’t quiet, but it feels quiet as they watch the birthing video. The moans from the laboring woman on the screen echo throughout the room, punctuated every now and then doctors and nurses talking calmly, a nervous husband trying to soothe her, and the wet, slippery sounds of childbirth.

The mothers in the room watch with something between nervous excitement and cautious anticipation, while their non-pregnant birthing partners look on at the events depicted on the screen with an ever-increasing sense of horror and foreboding.

Suddenly there’s a close-up of the baby as it crowns, wet and covered in fluids that Ashlyn knows they’ve learned the name of in class but is currently too grossed-out to remember.

She can’t watch.

She can’t watch.

She can’t look away.

“Oh, god, look, it’s got hair, she’s giving birth to a giant kiwi,” Ash whispers to Bruce next to her, the two couples having bonded quickly over their pregnancies and Ali and Grace’s shared love of the kinds of food that could burn off their stomach linings. Lamaze class nights were now followed by heartburn mornings at the Krieger-Harris residence, without fail.

He sniggers, ignoring the look his wife gives him as the mother screams and more of the baby appears.

“This is the most disgust–ow–” Ash continues, whispering dramatically in protest of Ali pinching the sensitive skin under her knee.

“–disgustingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she amends quickly, though she goes pale as the woman begins to deliver the baby’s shoulders. “I mean, look at all that … beauty …”

Her voice fades off and Burt gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, kid,” he tells her, “it’s not that bad.”

She doesn’t even care that he’s lying through his teeth, it makes her feel a little better nonetheless.

Ali and Grace just roll their eyes.

—–

It surprises no one that when Ali goes into labor, it’s Ash who’s the mess, running around the house grabbing things from this room and that while her partner sits on the birthing ball in the living room, arm curled protectively around her belly, and watches.

“Ash, baby,” she tries to call out, tries to get the other woman to slow down and take a breath, “my contractions aren’t even that close. We’ve probably got a few hours yet before it even qualifies as labor. Calm down.”

But the blonde ignores her, and continues making lists and searching out things she thinks they might need.

“Do you want your body pillow,” she calls out from the bedroom. “How about your–I’ll just pack them both, okay? Okay.”

And it’s almost amusing, Ali decides, as she feels another contraction coming on.

Until Ashlyn gave herself a black eye running into the kitchen and colliding with an open cabinet door.

Of course, a minute and a half later, watching as her partner’s eye begins to swell angrily, her water breaks.

And then it’s not exactly amusing anymore.

—–

“Good job, kid,” Bruce says, punching her gently in the shoulder as he looks on at the baby in her partner’s arms. “The eye’s a nice touch–Ali give you that?”

She glares at him as best she can while the women in their lives compare birthing stories. So far, it sounds like Ali’s seven hour labor wins for the most intense–Grace’s third labor had only lasted a little over two hours, apparently.

“Third time’s the charm,” Bruce had chimed in, proud smile stretched across his face as he looked toward the stroller with his three-week old daughter asleep inside.

Ashlyn, blushing as she recalls her frantic escapade around the house, shakes her head. “I may have gotten a little over-excited when Ali said she was in labor,” she confesses to him.

“Rookie mistake,” he tells her, and the four of them laugh quietly while the newest member of the Krieger-Harris family sleeps.


	12. You Are the Start of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You are the earth that I will stand upon  
>  You are the words that I will sing_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali calling Ashlyn her girlfriend for the first time_

“Are we,” Ash asks as she drives, Tracy Chapman singing quietly in the background.

Ali closes her phone, dropping it into the cup holder between them. 

“Are we what,” she responds, not quite sure what the other woman is asking.

“Are we girlfriends? On the phone–,” the blonde takes a breath, forcing herself to stare straight ahead, paying strict attention to the road. “On the phone you said, ‘my girlfriend…’”

And it’s quiet for a moment, the car full of the kind of silence that weighs heavy in the air. Like the air on a south Florida afternoon, just before the rain breaks through the sky to send cool droplets of rain scattering over the steaming pavement. 

But Ali doesn’t let the quiet hover long.

“Pull the car over,” she says, and lets her hand sit, full of meaning, on her lover’s leg. 

Ash finds a quiet spot along the back-country road, private, out of sight, and turns the car off, turning to look at the brunette in the passenger seat. 

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, trying to walk back her question, trying to pretend that something in her heart hadn’t broken free when she’d heard the woman she loved used the term. 

The brunette knows different, though, and lifts a finger to press against the other woman’s soft, worried lips. 

“Shhh,” Ali says, “shhh.”

She leans forward and kisses the tip of Ash’s nose, the corner of her eyes, the divot just above her mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, pressing gentle, loving kisses to Ashlyn’s face. “I’m sorry I made it seem like such a big deal, a big step I had to overcome.” 

And she means it. She regrets the years she spent struggling over labels and definitions, regrets the years she wouldn’t let Ash use the word, couldn’t figure out how to use it herself. 

But not any longer.

“You,” Ali says, pulling herself over the arm rest to settle upon the blonde’s lap, “are the most important person in my life.”

She kisses Ashlyn’s lips, kisses her deeply, kisses her like a promise, like a vow, before pulling away. 

“You are my girlfriend,” she continues, “and so, so much more.” 

And then she lowers her head again, and tells her love again. 

Kisses, this time, instead of words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This," Ed Sheeran


	13. Felt Alive, for the First Time in My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I like the way the streetlights finger paint your body.  
>  Fireworks off the roof glowing in your eyes.  
> Wearing my jacket, voice like an angel hey hey.  
> I felt alive, for the first time in my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali and Ashlyn's first kiss_

You’ll remember this forever, you think, as her lips part against yours, as she moans into your mouth.

You’ll remember this for as long as your heart beats, as long as your lungs draw in air and your fingers ache with the need to touch.

And longer, even.

As the dust of your bones sinks into the earth. As your spirit soars among the clouds, weightless and free, but always, ever, hers.

She shifts against you, into you, and you grin, leaning into her body, reaching up with your hand to cradle the back of her head, tangle your fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck.

“Ali,” you sigh into her mouth, running your tongue along her lips. She tastes of salt, and tequila, and lime. You taste the same, you know. Celebration shots in your hotel room, another successful tournament under your belts.

But you’re not drunk, and neither is she. Neither of you will have an excuse in the morning, a pass on remembering what and why and with who.

The thought makes you grip her hair a little tighter, and bite at her lip. The slightest of insecurities slipping into your thoughts, and you kiss her harder, deeper. You’ll leave her something to remember, just in case.

“Fuck, Ash,” she groans and pulls you closer, closer than you’d thought possible. Until, in a loss that echoes through you, she pulls away.

Her pupils are wide, and her sweet brown irises almost disappeared into the black pools. If you look hard enough, you wonder, would you see yourself reflected back in them? Would you see what she sees when she looks at you?

Her hands come up, tender against your face as she holds you, as she looks at you.

“Ash,” she whispers softly, and you can feel the breath of her words, gentle on your cheek.

This time, she kisses you.

She leans in and slants her mouth against yours, and you’re caught up in tongues and teeth and lips. Caught in the spell she weaves with her fingertips, the shapes she traces down the warm skin of your neck, how the path of her fingers burns hot, a trail for you to remember her by.

Because you will remember.

Her.

This.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Farewell, December," Matt Nathanson


	14. Good for My Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Heaven knows she's good for my soul, believe me  
>  Ever since she came I've been whole, believe me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ashlyn is sick and doesn't want to admit it_

“Honey, you’ve got a fever, you can’t stop coughing, and you barely have enough energy to get out of bed and shower, you need to tell the trainers that you can’t train today.”

Ali’s voice was gentle, but firm. She meant what she said, Ashlyn was in no condition to go anywhere, much less to practice today.

But Ash groaned from beneath the piles of blankets she’d cocooned herself under. It was a pitiful sound, broken up by a deep cough that rattled in her chest and shook the bed with its strength. Ali ached at the sound, wanting nothing more than to be able to fix this, to make her partner feel better, to help her get back to the pitch.

But she knew, nothing would help except rest and time and the bottle of cold and flu medicine on the table next to the bed.

“I have to go,” Ash said, struggling to speak between coughing episodes, “I’m fighting for my spot, Al. I can’t afford to be sick.”

Ali’s heart broke a little. She knew it was true. There was only room for two goalkeepers on the Rio roster and the first spot would go to Hope without question. And she understood the desperation, the instinct to push through the body’s limits and boundaries in order to prove that you were the only one who could do the job.

But she knew, too, the cost of pushing too hard, of not giving the body the breaks it needed. It had been the hardest thing, back during the run up to London, to let herself recover at the pace necessary to rebuild the foundation of her strength, to accept that 2012 was gone and to set her sights on 2016 instead.

“Babe, there’s a ways to go before Jill will make her decision. But if you go out today, sick as you are, you might injure yourself and put yourself on the bench before the coaching staff can even make their choice.”

She slipped a hand under the covers, up under Ash’s t-shirt, rubbing gentle circles on her partner’s hot, hot back.

“Jill will understand that you’re sick, Ash. She will. And the sooner you get better the sooner you’ll be back on the field and able to wow her with your skills, okay?”

Ali kissed the blonde’s sweaty, fevered forehead, accepting the other woman’s silence as an agreement.

“I’m going to go make you some tea and tell Jill, okay?” she said softly, “and then I’ll come sit with you until it’s time to head to the field.”

Somewhere buried in the middle of a particularly bad round of coughs was a “thanks.”

—–

When she returned, Ali found her partner snoring heavily, every breath sounding like a fight as Ash struggled to force air past the congestion in her lungs.

“Oh, honey,” Ali whispered, and put the tea on the side table to cool. Over by the window was an assortment of cold and flu remedies, including a small pot of vapor rub, which she grabbed and went to sit at the sleeping woman’s side.

“Ash, babe, you need to wake up. I’m going to put some stuff on your chest, help you breathe a little,” she said, but to no avail.

She pulled the blankets back anyway, and pushed the blonde’s shirt up to reveal the tanned, tattooed skin beneath.

With strong, careful hands, Ali spread a thin layer of the pungent cream over her partner’s chest, Ash waking up midway through with a particularly heavy cough.

“Shhh,” Ali said, “just something to help you breathe. Go back to sleep, babe.”

And Ash did, dozing as Ali finished up, waking briefly to spoon into the brunette when she came back from washing her hands to sit on the bed and drink her morning coffee as she played gently with Ash’s long, blonde hair.

“Okay, love,” Ali whispered as she slipped out of the bed, “you’ve got tea on the table next to you. And one of the interns is going to check on you every couple of hours, see if you need anything. Don’t be mean to her.”

That got a sleepy chuckle in response, and another coughing fit, of course.

“I love you, and I’ll be back later.”

And with another kiss to her partner’s warm forehead, Ali left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Good for My Soul," The Jesus and Mary Chain


	15. Who I've Always Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ali and Ash coming out to their parents ___

Ash has been out since her sophomore year of college. She’s known a lot longer, and to be honest, so have the people most important to her, but it’s that year, after her first real break-up, that she realizes she’s tired of pretending she’s anything else but who she is. 

Ali doesn’t exactly come out so much as get walked in on one day by Kyle. It’s traumatic for both of them–all three of them, really–but after he finishes pretending to bleach his brain so that the image of his naked sister a second or two away from climaxing will disappear, the siblings sit down and have a long talk. When she tells her parents that she’s dating a woman, Kyle is there with her.


	16. If You Come Closer I Can Whisper in Your Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of an era. It's the last match of the Victory Tour. 
> 
> It's Bourbon Street and it's love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _ali and ash on bourbon street_

You’re drunk, you know it. 

The world spins in a way that turns the lights of the busy street into the carousels of your childhood boardwalks, and you reach out a hand to grasp at the warm body in front of you. 

“Hey, there, babe,” she says quietly, and moves to help steady you, to wrap an arm around your waist, and as you lay your head against her shoulder and lean into her strong body you can feel the warmth of her radiate through the thin shirt she wears. 

Ash, your sweet Florida sunshine. 

So big and tough. 

_But you know,_ you laugh to yourself as she weaves you in and around the other people in the crowd, your teammates and your friends, _you know the truth._

She has the softest heart you’ve ever loved. 

Everyone looks at Ashlyn and sees the skull hat and the crossbones jewelry and the dark colors, the blacks and grays that fill her closet. They look and they assume that she’s the tough one, the hard one. They look at her and assume that she seduced you, brought you over to the dark side, into the scandalous lifestyle of the modern queer romance.

You giggle and hiccup and somewhere to your side or behind you someone asks: “Is she alright?” 

Ash’s voice is amused when she answers, when she tells whoever asked that you’re fine–a little too much to drink–but fine. 

_If only the world knew the truth_ , you think–or maybe you say it out loud, you can’t tell anymore. 

If only the world knew how hard you worked to seduce the tall, blonde goalkeeper. The hottest woman you’d ever seen, then and now. How you lusted for her long before you even realized what you were feeling, and how dapper she was as she tried to turn down your advances, as she tried to preserve your friendship above all else. 

“Ali, honey,” Ash says softly into your ear, “we’re at the car, I’m going to help you in, okay?” 

You only laugh in response, caught up in the memory of her face the night you’d confronted her in her hotel room, a bottle of tequila and a fire burning under your skin. 

Somewhere far away, the world begins to move, but your head is tucked into the hallowed hollow between her shoulder and her neck, the gentle curve that fits your head so perfectly. 

Everything had changed that night, all those years ago. 

Looking back, your cheeks burn at your brazenness, at the memory of the first time you felt her bare skin against your own. How you’d known, from the first touch, the first careful kiss, that even among all the uncertainty and fear, this was right. Loving her was right. 

It’s no different tonight. You’re older, true, and you’ve long since overcome those fears. 

But you know, loving her will always be the best thing thing that you ever do.

And now, tequila swimming in your veins, you know one thing and one thing only, you want to show her, remind her, of how you feel, of that first night, of every night and morning and day since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Warm Water," Banks


End file.
